


The Bad, the Ugly, and the Uglier

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s13e16 Scoobynatural, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, My Take on the Cartwright Twins, Original-ish Characters, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Humor, They're So Domestic It's Gross, Watersports, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean lowers his gun with an exasperated sigh. "Cas, I could've shot you. You know I'm an angry sleeper.""Nonsense. It would have penetrated my vessel, but it wouldn't have harmed me in any way. Well, except in the rare circumstance that..."Dean rolls his eyes. He's so not in the mood for this at... what time is it? Dean feels another sigh, this one more guttural, glancing over at the clock. 3am. "Cas," he says, cutting through his longwinded, purely unnecessary description of angel anatomy, "what's up?”"The Cartwright twins," Cas says without hesitation. "What did you do to them?"





	The Bad, the Ugly, and the Uglier

**Author's Note:**

> My take on what Dean did to the Cartwright Twins, and their identities. (;  
> Also plenty of angst because it's me.

Dean lowers his gun with an exasperated sigh. "Cas, I could've shot you. You know I'm an angry sleeper."

"Nonsense. It would have penetrated my vessel, but it wouldn't have harmed me in any way. Well, except in the rare circumstance that..."

Dean rolls his eyes. He's so not in the mood for this at... what time is it? Dean feels another sigh, this one more guttural, glancing over at the clock. 3am. "Cas," he says, cutting through his longwinded, purely unnecessary description of angel anatomy, "what's up?”

"The Cartwright twins," Cas says without hesitation. "What did you do to them?"

"The Cartwri—? Seriously?! _That's_ why you woke me up from my Gunner Lawless breath play fantasy?"

Cas’s mouth opens and shuts faster than Dean can get another word in. Instead, he folds his arms over his chest, and ends up catching his right hand in the gaping V of his flannel nightgown. Scowling, Dean tucks his left arm in his torso to avoid Cas seeing his nipple.

But Cas’s body’s already angled the other direction. Dean wishes now more than ever Cas didn’t despise the way cotton felt, wrinkled and sticky against his skin when he sleeps, because he can see the deep frowns in his tanned back. “Talk to me.”

“I…” Cas shakes his head, scoffing. It sounds distant, like a man too deep in the forest of his thoughts to yell, but Dean will wait for it to echo back to him. He’s not going to lose Cas again. Especially not when he just got him back. “I don’t know.”

"Do you want to?” Dean asks carefully.

"No, Dean, being threatened at gunpoint is just a big kink of mine."

"Man, if only that were a thing,” Dean muses, trying to lighten the mood, “I'd have had so many hard-ons by now. Believe me; no one wants to challenge a dude with his flag at full mass."

**"Dean."**

"Okay, okay," Dean surrenders, holding up his hands. He keeps his huff to a minimal pulling up his gown before beginning: “I was in a club. Shocker, I know. Sam and I just had a big blowout over something stupid, I forget now, so I needed to let off some steam…”

_Smoke hisses out of the machine, fanning out amongst the boisterous crowd. Something akin to a gurgling infant popping bubble wrap is blaring over the speakers, but even Dean has to admit it’s kind of catchy. Then again, that can probably be credited to the puke-colored drink in his hand. Yet, he can’t help himself as he glosses his lips with the salt on the glittering rim of his glass again. Something about this place is infectious._

_The dancefloor’s alight from every bright, glittery gown and leather jacket, but that’s not what catches Dean’s eye. Two long, dark-haired twins in matching purple sequin dresses notice he’s staring and duck their heads almost in sync. The thin line of their pointed eyeliner matches the wicked smile on their faces: an official invitation for him to get underneath their wings._

_Dean clears his throat before grinning back, causing them to throw their heads back in laughter, exposing their long, tanned necks—and giving Dean a better view at the two men he’s eyeing behind them. They’re also twins. With skin like milky caramel extending over six-feet and almond-colored eyes, it takes everything in Dean not to salivate at the thought of unwrapping them from their leather wrapping right there._

_Downing the rest of his margarita, he decides it’s time to swoop in._

_He swaggers over with a slightly noticeable kick in his step, brazenly cutting through the two girls. “Hey… do you know if Heaven’s missing a couple of angels?”_

Cas looks at Dean through pursed eyes and lips.

“Unsurprisingly, I got the same reaction from them,” Dean jokes, trying on a grin for size. When Cas’s expression doesn’t falter, he clears his throat, “Uh, anyway, then I basically offered them a VIP to the restroom, and…”

_Dean groans and slaps his hand against the dirty stall door, announcing his desire to everyone in the spacious bathroom. They smell like vodka and virility, and prove the latter shoving him inside the handicap stall. One twin bites and sucks at his unshaven neck like he’s inhaling an entire Christmas while the other snacks on his nipple, occasionally padding it with the flat of his tongue—both extinguishing and lighting a flame that originates deeper than Dean’s chest._

_“Wait,” Dean pleads, “I actually do have to…”_

_“Do it,” the second twin says, now on his feet next to Dean’s newly exposed cock. They’re gorgeous and they’re mind readers. They’re gorgeous mind readers. So not fair._

_Dean’s never done something like this before—and that’s saying a lot, because he’s dipped his chip in almost every kind of salsa. Then again, there’s not much to it. Either way, he’ll feel relieved, and if he was in a more coherent state of mind, he wouldn’t be able to admit he actually feels kind of turned on by it._

_Dean nods and it doesn’t take long after the second twin’s mouth on his prick and every abdominal muscle to instinctively release, allowing piss to flow freely into the guy’s mouth. “Ooh…_ wow,” _Dean sighs, throwing his head back, giving the first twin better access to his neck, which is no doubt stained with lust._

 _“May I?” the first twin asks, smile ever-so crooked. Dean glances down to find his dick just as heavy and exposed, already dripping a mix of both pre-cum and urine, and all Dean can do, again, is nod before_ he’s _the one being pissed and grinded on and_ fuck, _he can’t help but ask himself—_

"Why?"

Dean blinks, cutting the memory to black like an old film broadcasting intermission. "Why what?"

"Why don't you show that side of you with me? Are you afraid I'll judge you?" Cas asks. He ducks his head and bites his lip like he’s Noah trying to block the flood with his ark, which bleaks in comparison to the storm raging on in his head: "Are you insecure about us?"

"No. Cas, I would never—" Dean takes Cas's hands in his. "I mean, if you want—if you're into that—we can.”

“Then why don’t we?”

Dean sighs, but doesn’t let go of his hands. In fact, he starts massaging the tops with his thumbs like he knows Cas likes, which Dean can tell he’s trying hard not to show right now. “You’re gonna make me spell it out?”

“Dean, I’m fluent in 36,682 languages,” Cas smarts, “Subtext is not one of them.”

"No, I get that, it’s just… wait, aren’t there only, like, a few thousand different languages in the world?”

“A little under seven thousand, actually.” Cas shakes his head, this time out of disappointment. “Humans: So tragically limited to their own planet.”

Dean’s about to question, but it’s not the most important thing right now, and honestly, hearing Cas tell him off is one of _his_ big kinks, and he can’t afford getting turned on in the middle of the point he’s trying to make: “Cas, listen, I’ve had some good times. Every Jackie, Jill, and Jace was a chart-topper for a solid few minutes of my life. But when we have sex, when I… expose… myself to you, we’re not _just_ having sex… I mean, we _are_ and it’s great sex, believe me, but I’m not just showing you my body. I feel like every part of me—the Bad, the Ugly, and the Uglier—is on display on ninth street in Cleveland.”

“Cleveland?”

“It’s home to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, point _is_ …”

“You open yourself to vulnerability,” Cas finishes, looking at Dean with those impossibly blue eyes that remind Dean of a police interrogation window: Cas can see him perfectly through the thick film better than Dean can see him. And when he tries to see him, all he sees is his own reflection. “And that scares you.”

Dean gulps. “A shitton.”

Cas drops his head and mimics Dean’s motions on the tops of his hands.

A soft smile graces Dean’s face. For every time Dean’s had mind-blowing sex, these brief and seemingly insignificant moments in time are worth three times as much. At first, Dean thought he didn’t deserve it—sometimes he still does. Some days he wants to yell and scream at Cas for seeing something in him that doesn’t exist, for wasting his time on a deadbeat. But before he can even reach that point, Cas does stuff like this. Embraces his hands, or his chest—or his whole body.

Some days, he doesn’t even do that. Some days, he just has to look at Dean, and Dean’s reassured. He even lets himself indulge in it like he is now—something he never thought he’d enable himself to do.

“I… um,” Dean laughs. He can’t believe he can feel the words bubbling on his tongue. Usually, he has to down a bottle of champagne to get that feeling, but even when he’s drunk he seems to have a sober grasp on the same words that’re slowly but surely slipping from him now: “I love you,” he states. It’s a little too rushed for his liking, much like the words that follow, but it feels right. It feels pure. “Like, a lot. More than a lot, actually. It’s kind of crazy. And also scary.”

Cas doesn’t look the least surprised. He just smiles and lifts his right hand, cupping Dean’s cheek before kissing him. “I love you too. There will be plenty of proof of that in the morning. But for now, sleep. Pretend like I didn’t even wake you up.”

“Mmm, that’ll be kind of hard considering I’m wide awake.”

Cas pushes him lightly on the shoulder, but doesn’t go back on his promise the next day.

He never does.


End file.
